


Kanan Bound

by YoungestThunderbird



Series: Arcadia [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Adoption, Caleb is trouble, Depa is mom, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Grey is dad, Minor Angst, Pre-Depa Billaba/CC-10/994|Grey, Though he’s well behaved today, Title is my attempt at a pun, both legal and informal, due to my ‘promised land/paradise’ theme and Kanan/Canaan homophone, like one second, one-second foreshadowing to characters in Rebels, this is a fluff piece not a political thriller people, unrealistic depictions of paperwork, why isn’t there a Caleb Dume character tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungestThunderbird/pseuds/YoungestThunderbird
Summary: There are just some things in life that you feel better when they’re on paper. Grey has decided that adopting Caleb is one of those things.
Relationships: CC-10/994 | Grey & Kanan Jarrus, Depa Billaba & CC-10/994, Depa Billaba & Kanan Jarrus, Depa Billaba & Kanan Jarrus & CC-10/994|Grey
Series: Arcadia [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939405
Comments: 13
Kudos: 401





	Kanan Bound

**Author's Note:**

> The plot bunny kept biting.

It had been six tendays since the Jedi and Clones had settled on Dantooine, and construction was going along well. Jocasta Nu was researching the ancient method of directing the Force around certain internal building supports to make them difficult to tamper with, and also to strengthen them.  
She was brought out of her research by a polite clearing of the throat. She looked up to see a Clone standing at attention in front of her.  
“At ease,” she murmured, “I apologize if I have kept you waiting.”  
She had not familiarized herself with all of the armor patterns that differentiated the various legions, but she recognized this man. It was Commander Grey, Depa Billaba’s Commander, most commonly found chasing after young Caleb Dume and the shinies of his legion.  
“I haven’t been here long, ma’am,” replied Grey. That was good, at least. Her fellow Jedi knew that they needed to catch her attention somehow when they walked into the room; the Clones didn’t yet.  
“Is young Caleb in the Archives again?” Jocasta asked.  
“No, ma’am. He’s with the General, doing his lightsaber drills. I was actually hoping to ask you something,” he held his helmet in his hands, looking uncharacteristically nervous, from what she had seen of him.  
“You can ask me anything. It is my duty to find answers for members of the Order. Please, sit down,” she told him, motioning to the desk chair next to her.  
Grey nodded, sat, and started explaining.  
“I know you and Senator Amidala interface with the Senate to file claims and other paperwork. I was hoping to ask for help with some paperwork of my own.”  
Grey visibly steeled himself, while Jocasta raised an eyebrow. He continued in a rush.  
“I’d like to adopt Caleb. I’ve already done it the Mandalorian way, but I want it to be legal in the Republic. Can you help with that?”  
Jocasta raised her eyebrow. Grey fidgeted a bit.  
“I know I’m not legally a person, so I’d like to be permanently assigned to bodyguard duty for him and the General. Fox says that he’s seen it done, so I know it’s possible.”  
Jocasta couldn’t help but raise her hand to stop his rambling. Her heart hurt for the man in front of her; so convinced he couldn’t have the basic rights of humanity and determined to settle for the next best thing, if only to keep him close to his child.  
“As far as the Jedi Order is concerned, you have been a Republic citizen since being inducted into the Order at the beginning of the war. All Jedi are Republic citizens, regardless of circumstances of birth. Just look at Knight Skywalker; he was born in Hutt space, but has a citizenship.  
“The Republic disagrees, but the Republic has absolutely no way of knowing which members of the Jedi Order are natborns, and which are Clones.”  
Grey looked like a stunned anooba, so Jocasta continued.  
“The notaries here will all testify that you are a Republic citizen, and all the Knight Curators, otherwise known as Archivists, have the legal powers of any courthouse registrar; we can perform both marriages and adoptions that are legal in all Republic territories. Of course, the flimsi copy might be a bit antiquated, as we haven’t used these legal powers for three hundred years, but it’ll hold up to any scrutiny.”  
Grey was looking at her like all his fondest wishes had come true. He gulped and blinked twice, and then straightened up.  
“And the Republic really won’t know?” He asked, “It really won’t be able to block the application?”  
“Naturally,” Jocasta replied, “The Master Curator, in this case myself, is the one verifying your identity and your citizenship status. I can testify that you are Commander Grey, and that you are a citizen due to your status in the order. The Republic only gets a copy for administrative purposes; they have little authority to deny an already approved adoption.  
“My only suggestion is to adopt a last name; a human with a last name stands out less than a human without one. Your first name isn’t overly unusual by natborn standards, so you should be able to pass a cursory inspection. We will have a harder time if Waxer wants to adopt someone.”  
Jocasta was intrigued at Clone naming conventions. They closely resembled the conventions of several tribes she had met who named on merit, or achievement, but there were also Clones named for traits or habits, like Fives and Waxer. It was fascinating to a researcher.  
Grey scratched the back of his head.  
“Any ideas for a last name?” He asked, “I wouldn’t know a normal one if it bit me on the nose.”  
“Well, your progenitor was named Fett,” Jocasta offered.  
“That shebs (1) isn’t my family. He’s just who I look like,” Grey rebutted. Jocasta nodded, thoughtfully.  
“Does your squadron have a name?” She asked, “I’m told that Captain Rex has taken the last name Torrent.”  
“No, ma’am. It’s nameless. We called ourselves the General’s Squad.”  
“Would you like to take your General’s last name, like the Wolfpack?” Jocasta wondered.  
Grey went the same shade of bright red that Bly had turned when Knight Secura first held his hand in public. Oh, so it was like that, then. She took pity on the man.  
“Ah, perhaps not,” she murmured. Or perhaps later, when Master Billaba figured out her beloved Commander’s regard for her was not quite platonic.  
Grey looked like an incredibly grateful Alderaanian Tomato. He thought for a moment, and appeared to come to a conclusion.  
“How about Seeci,” he put forward. She waited for an explanation, but none was forthcoming, so she simply accepted it.  
She motioned for him to follow and walked to the legal records room, withdrawing a sheet of flimsi from a file folder. It was emblazoned with large letters across the top, NOTICE OF ADOPTION OF CHILD OVER THIRTEEN STANDARD WITH PREEXISTING GUARDIAN.  
“You sign here, and have him sign here, and have General Billaba sign here, as she is his legal guardian, and I will take care of the rest,” she pointed out the signature blocs, and handed him the flimsi. Grey folded the sheet in half and tucked it under his armor carefully, like it was made of pure gold.  
She contemplated telling him that this kind of adoption was most commonly used by married couples, to give one spouse guardianship of any children the other spouse had by previous partners, but decided against it. He had already gone red once this meeting; she didn’t want to drive his blood pressure up too much.  
“Come back once you have everything signed, and I will send it to be filed at the Senate.”  
He nodded, thanked her profusely, and left her to her research. She settled in, smiling. Sometimes, some days, she was able to truly help someone; and that made all the paperwork of being a Master Curator worth it.  
...  
Grey was nervous, he was man enough to admit it. He had already adopted Caleb, with Styles and the men as his witnesses, in the Mandalorian fashion. It’s just that Caleb didn’t know.  
Grey had known that the Jedi Order, at the time, had strict prohibitions on attachments, especially for Padawans. Especially attachments outside the order. Caleb’s ambition was to be a Jedi, and protect everyone he could. He didn’t want to take that away from the kid. And he didn’t want the kid to feel like he had to choose between Grey and his goal.  
So he had said the Gai Bal Manda with his helmet on, over internal comms, with the external speakers turned off. Caleb hadn’t heard, but his brothers had, and they stood as witnesses.  
But now the Jedi were permitted attachments, within reason, and Archives Master Nu had all but given explicit encouragement for him to adopt Caleb by Republic law. Obviously the culture in the Order had changed, and he wouldn’t be putting Caleb in a bad spot if he asked now.  
He found Caleb meditating with General Billaba in the training field. Well, the General was meditating, Caleb was subtly fidgeting. He couldn’t repress a smile at the sight. Caleb tried to pretend he was grown up, but when he was with his family, he acted like the teenager he was.  
He decided to lay on the edge of the training mats and doze for a while; it was always peaceful when the Generals were meditating. Good for a nap, and he had worked late last night so he was tired. He felt a weight against his armor on his side after a while, and opened his eyes to see Caleb leaning against him, fast asleep.  
For some reason, the kid was convinced that Grey was his personal pillow. Grey couldn’t really say he minded, but he was still bewildered at the thought process the kid had. It takes someone special to see a 100-kilo engineered soldier in full armor and think that they looked comfortable to sleep on. Grey wouldn’t trade Caleb for a hundred Padawans, though.  
He looked up at the General, who smiled at him and resumed meditating. He pulled out his personal datapad and did paperwork for a while, until his General gracefully rose from her lotus position and sat down again next to him, on the side not occupied by a dozing Padawan.  
“Is something on your mind, Grey?” She asked lightly, “You normally fall asleep within a few moments of Caleb.”  
Grey could feel himself blush a bit, but tamped down on his embarrassment. There was nothing wrong with being soothed by cuddling family members. Even if he was teased by beautiful Generals.  
His medic kept reminding him that ‘cuddling family members’ was the foundation of the Clone Mental Health Program, and that he’d better manage his mental health properly or else he’d get tranqed and locked in sickbay.  
Medics were scary.  
“I was hoping to get your permission for something,” he replied, removing the flimsi from his armor. It was no small task to do without disturbing Caleb.  
“Grey, I’m no longer your superior officer. You don’t have to ask my permission to do anything,” replied his General. She had been more and more distant like that, lately. He hoped she wasn’t trying to distance herself from them; that would be painful for the men. It’d be even more painful for him. She walked over and sat down next to him, though, so maybe he was wrong. He hoped he was wrong.  
Grey simply handed her the flimsi. He put effort into not hunching over; firstly, he needed to ask for this as an equal, not a lesser. Secondly, it would disturb the kid.  
She read the flimsi and brought her hand to her mouth.  
“Oh, Grey, of course I will let you adopt Caleb.”  
He put his arm around her and squeezed, gently. It somehow wasn’t right to manhandle her the way he’d wrestle with Caleb.  
“Thank you, General,” he whispered, “There is no way I can repay you for this.”  
“Stop calling me General, Grey. I’m Depa. We’re family, and family does not stand on rank or keep track of debts.”  
Maybe she wasn’t trying to distance herself at all, but to try and meet him on her merit instead of rank. She didn’t seem to realize that her merit was the reason he lov- respected her so.  
He squeezed her a bit tighter and then let her go. She still wasn’t used to physical affection, really, much like most of the Order.  
Smaller Jedi were enthusiastically taking to the new Code and all that went with it. Padawan Katooni, the Wolfpack’s Padawan, barely went three minutes without being hugged by one of her thousand brothers and was an excellent example of this.  
Older Jedi were slower to adapt, naturally. It was a GAR-wide effort to get them used to affectionate physical contact. Plo Koon enthusiastically gave and received hugs at the drop of a hat, but he was an exception rather than the rule. Depa wasn’t used to being hugged often at all, especially not for long periods of time. He had set the shinies to adjusting that. They’d stop her in the halls, say hello, and hug her for a minute. He figured it was an important part of integrating the Jedi into the Clone Mental Health Program.  
She surprised him by putting her arm around him, and Caleb on his other side, and squeezing back.  
“Family, Grey,” she repeated.  
“Yes, Depa,” he murmured. She seemed satisfied with his answer and relaxed her hold slightly, though she didn’t let go. She switched from sitting up to laying down next to them. It seemed the integration into the Clone Mental Health Program was successful.  
She handed back the flimsi, which he left on the floor next to them. Best not to risk waking Caleb if he didn’t have to.  
Surrounded by his family, Grey felt himself relax into slumber. He could hear Depa’s breathing even out next to him as he fell to sleep.  
...  
Caleb woke up with his cheek on a hard surface. Without opening his eyes, he identified it as armor. When he opened his eyes, he narrowed down his identification to Grey’s armor.  
Grey himself was still asleep, and so was Master Billaba, who was leaning against him. She had her hand grabbing onto the back of his robe, like she used to do when he was younger and got into trouble, so he didn’t try to wriggle out of Grey’s hold. It generally was useless to try anyway; Grey had a hug like an arboreal octopus.  
He adjusted his position a bit, so his back was straighter, and resigned himself to staying exactly where he was until Grey and Master woke up. Not a horrible fate, certainly.  
Though Cal would certainly tease him if he saw him now. Cal could be a jerk like that. Just because his Commander wasn’t comfortable to nap on, doesn’t mean that everyone’s Commander wasn’t.  
Master Billaba must have noticed that he was awake through their bond, because she started to stir. Then Grey woke up, all at once, like he had been given a jolt of electricity. The man always woke up like that. It was disconcerting.  
Grey lifted his arm slightly and Caleb took the opportunity to escape the octopus-hug and sit up straight. Grey gently removed his arm from Master Billaba’s shoulders and ruffled Caleb’s hair. He squawked, but Grey had already retrieved a piece of flimsi from the floor and gotten up to his feet. He held his had down to Caleb and hoisted him up when Caleb grabbed on. He also held his arm to Master Billaba, but she gracefully refused, getting up by herself and straightening her perfect braids.  
Seriously, how did she keep them that neat all the time? In the middle of battle, after a nap on the floor, or even after a dip in the bacta tank, her braids always looked like she’d just stepped out of a treaty signing, with nary a hair out of place.  
Caleb put it down to the Mysteries of the Force.  
He followed them to the office tent next to the training field; though the war had stopped paperwork had not, more’s the pity. Depa motioned for him to sit down at the large folding table they were using as a desk, and she sat as well, looking towards Grey.  
The man stood in front of Caleb, holding the sheet of flimsi in his hand. He looked uncharacteristically nervous, but put the sheet of flimsi down in front of him still folded  
“Caleb, you know I love you very much. I’d like to adopt you, by your traditions, have it down on paper just in case.”  
Caleb started wide-eyed at him. Grey, who already had a zillion little brothers to look after, wanted to adopt him?  
Grey seemed to misinterpret his wide-eyed stare. He started to ramble.  
“Of course, if you don’t want to, I won’t mention this again. I wouldn’t want you to feel pressured...”  
Master Billaba took one look at Caleb’s face and raised her hand.  
“Don’t worry Grey, he reacted just like this when I asked him to be my Padawan. Give him a moment,” she murmured soothingly.  
Caleb stared blankly at Grey until he felt that he had control over his muscles again and then launched himself across the desk at him.  
“Yes, I want to, of course, Grey!” He exclaimed, all while hugging the man within an inch of his life.  
“He did that too,” murmured Depa, “though it was cuter when he was smaller.”  
Caleb gave her a wounded look over Grey’s shoulder; no teenage boy wants to be referred to as ‘cute’ by his mother-figure. She remained straight-faced, though she send humor over their bond.  
“Of course I want do be adopted by you, Grey,” Caleb regained the capacity for complete sentences, and squeezed the man even tighter. Grey didn’t seem to mind.  
Caleb reluctantly let go, and looked at the flimsi. It had very official lettering on it, even if the lettering style had fallen out of use a hundred years ago.  
Depa handed Caleb a stylus and showed him where to sign, and then signed herself. Grey had already put his signature down. Caleb stared at it for a while, trying to decipher it. Grey’s handwriting was only just barely on the upper side of atrocious.  
“Grey, you have a last name?” He asked, confused. Grey nodded absently.  
“Yes, just picked one today. Should help us pass a cursory glance-over of the paperwork; it’s unusual for a human to not have a last name, and Master Nu has to put my species on there.”  
“It’s... Secoi?” Caleb tried to sound out the signature.  
“No, it’s Seeci. As in, CC-10/994. It’s as good a name as any, considering I’ll only use it for legal documents.”  
“You could have used one of ours!” Caleb blurted. Grey shrugged.  
“It’d look odd if Grey Dume wanted to adopt Caleb Dume. If we had the same last name, why would I need to adopt you? And Grey Billaba, well, I didn’t want them to check the marriage registry and start asking questions.”  
Caleb noticed the red tint of Grey’s face and decided not to believe him. This would be fun to tease him about, later. But for now, he simply grinned down at the flimsi in front of him.  
A thought occurred to him.  
He turned to Grey and said, “I am not calling Stance ‘uncle’!”  
...  
Depa smiled at her Padawan and her Commander. They were currently squabbling about Caleb’s relationship to Grey’s brothers; Caleb didn’t want to have to call the Tubies ‘uncle,’ while Grey thought it was hilarious. Of course, Grey tended to find a lot of things hilarious when he had Caleb squirming in a headlock. She couldn’t find it within herself to discourage it; it didn’t hurt Caleb and Grey had a nice laugh.  
To be perfectly honest, she was surprised that Grey had waited this long to adopt Caleb. She knew that the Mandalorian ceremony was no-frills, and didn’t require paperwork or visiting intimidating Knight Curators.  
Master Nu had been voted ‘Scariest Jedi’ by Depa’s year mates four times in a row, beating out such intimidating contenders as Mace Windu, Battlemaster Cin Drallig, and the cafeteria lunch ladies.  
She looked at Grey, who had turned his headlock into a bear hug. Caleb was still squirming, but mostly to try and hug him back.  
Her curiosity suddenly got the better of her. She was only human, after all, even if she was a Jedi Master. This little fact, incidentally, was also why she noticed the pleasing definition of his arm muscles.  
“Grey, why didn’t you just adopt Caleb the Mandalorian way?”  
Grey looked up, loosened his hold on Caleb, and replied.  
“Well, I wanted it to be Republic-legal. You know, according to the traditions of your people, not just mine. Also... I may have done it the Mandalorian way already.”  
He muttered the last bit, but the keen ears of both Jedi heard him.  
Caleb turned to him with wide eyes.  
“You did? When?”  
Grey scratched the back of his head sheepishly. Depa resolutely did not find it attractive.  
“Ah, after that one really difficult mission to Felucia. I said the vow over internal helmet comm,” he admitted.  
“Which mission? All the ones to Felucia are difficult,” Depa asked dryly.  
They were. Felucia was notorious for difficult campaigns that were undone as soon as the unlucky legion involved had left the planet. Every battalion in the GAR hated the place.  
“The second one, when the kid almost blew his arm off with a mine,” Grey muttered, clutching Caleb closer at the memory.  
It was worse than he was saying. Caleb had been wounded, and he, Stance, and their squad had been separated from the column and presumed dead for two days in territory hostile to Jedi. Grey has been devastated; she was only a short ways from joining him.  
The third day, Caleb, Stance, and the squad stumbled out of the jungle. Caleb was wearing a piecemeal set of armor and not his robes; each trooper had given him a few pieces of his own armor to make him less conspicuous and more blastproof, as Stance had put it.  
After they had all eaten, cleaned themselves up, and slept a full eight hours in a pile like akk-puppies, the first thing Stance did was drag Caleb to the armory and stuff him in a lovingly modified set of armor that was mysteriously his size.  
Grey had denied any knowledge of the origin such a thing. Depa didn’t believe him. She had caught him hugging the small chestplate during one of those dark nights when they thought Caleb was dead. Grey had lit up when he saw Caleb in the armor and hugged him for the first time, then gave him paint and a brush. Grey had refused to let Caleb out of his sight for the rest of the campaign.  
Since that day, Caleb was near-impossible to pry out of his armor. Grey also started to be less professional around Caleb; he’d ruffle the boy’s hair, hug him, take naps with him. The part of Depa that was a Jedi Council member noted that those behaviors matched how clones acted around their little brothers. That part was ruthlessly squashed; if Grey’s attachment to Caleb helped Caleb handle this war, she didn’t care if it was against the Code.  
She ignored the little part of her noting that her willingness to do so was a sign of her own attachment.  
Her thoughts were interrupted by Caleb tapping on Grey’s armor, a signal that he was hugging too tight.  
“Why didn’t you tell me back then?” He asked somewhat plaintively, once he regained his breath.  
Grey let go and turned to face them both.  
“I knew that Jedi couldn’t have attachments. You want to be a Jedi. I didn’t want to sabotage that, either by making you seem unfit or by making you choose between me and the Order,” he admitted.  
Caleb hugged him again.  
Depa had a sudden and somewhat disturbing thought, of a Clone Army that hated their Generals, their slave masters. It was the private fear of many Jedi, even herself, not so long ago. And this fear was compounded, now, as she envisioned hundreds of small robed figures fleeing the perceived coldness of the Temple to their men, who would welcome them with open arms.  
Caleb must have sensed her disquiet, for he hugged her next. She made sure to send him contentment and love along their bond; she admitted that she struggled with the new Code, but she didn’t want Caleb to think she didn’t care.  
Grey, unexpectedly, hugged her too. He was gentle, as he always was when he touched her, and she suddenly saw a flash of a scene. A vision from the Force.  
Caleb, older and taller, without his braid, wearing armor painted both red and a new, coppery tone. Next to him, a boy with blue hair in a Padawan braid, with armor the same color. Stance, Styles, Grey, and the men, half in the familiar red, half in the new copper. Flashes of others- a Twi’lek, a lasat, a brightly painted Mandalorian, a droid. All standing together, laughing, in the grasslands outside.  
She hugged Grey and Caleb back and smiled. Everything would be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Mandalorian: ass, asshole


End file.
